Stories, Smoke, & Strength

My eldest phupi (paternal aunt) would often call me outside on Chādnī Rāt (moonlit nights). She would spread out a pāṭi (woven mat) and tell me stories from the old days.

My grandfather, Putun Boli, and Habib Boli were the champions (boli) in their time. That is how they earned their new, honored names—before they were Boli, their names were simply Putun Ali and Habib Hassan.

In those earlier days, there were no cigarettes. Instead, men would gather in a circle, sitting together to smoke the hukkā (hookah). The women, meanwhile, would husk rice and pound the grains using the ḍheki (foot-operated wooden mortar). When the new paddy was brought home from the fields, every household would celebrate by preparing a variety of piṭhās (traditional rice cakes).

Hasina Zaman